by Harry Mazer
I lay there breathing hard. I examined my hand. I made the fingers wriggle. I made a fist and opened it. Gregory’s fingers. Gregory’s hand.
I was Gregory. I was me, Einstein, but I was in Gregory’s body.
And that dog with Gregory’s eyes? He was Gregory in my body.
He crept close to me. He put a paw on my arm and brought his nose close to mine, making sounds, the way I did when I wanted to tell Gregory something. I could almost hear him say, What do we do now, Einstein?
9 ■ “Gregory, will you please keep that dog quiet.” Mom opened the door. “Aren’t you ready for school yet? What are you doing under the bed, honey? Stop playing and leave Einstein alone.”
I waited until she closed the door, then I stood up. I wasn’t used to being up this high, being up on my hind legs. I kept wanting to get down close to the floor and sniff around.
Gregory was acting crazy. He kept leaping into the air and barking and looking into my face. I finally got it. He was telling me to look at the clock. It was a school day.
“No, I’m not going.” I didn’t know exactly how it was happening, but I was speaking. My breath and tongue were doing it. There was a tickling in my mouth and words were coming out.
Gregory was in the closet, tugging at clothes. He brought me a shirt, then dragged a pair of jeans to me, and I put them on. Why were clothes invented, when skin and hair are so perfect? I couldn’t feel the light or the air on my body. I hated the sneakers. It was like standing in boxes.
Mom and Dad were both in the kitchen. “You’ve got your shirt on backward, honey.” Mom put down her cup of coffee.
I circled the room several times. I kept glancing at my empty dish in the corner.
Dad looked up. “Is that dog collar a new fashion?”
“I don’t like it,” Mom said. She ran her hand through my hair. “Your hair’s a mess. Get me your brush.”
I started to go back, but Gregory was ahead of me. He raced upstairs and returned with the hairbrush in his mouth.
“What a bright dog,” Mom said.
“If you ever had any doubt,” Dad said.
“I—he—Einstein understands everything,” I said, adding, “he always did.”
“Stop running around the room, Gregory,” Dad said. “You’re going to be late for school. Sit down, kiddo.”
Gregory jumped up on my chair and put his paws on the table.
“Einstein,” Mom said. “That’s cute, but you don’t belong here. Get down.” She filled my food dish with kibble and put it down on the floor. “Over here, Einstein.”
“I—he can stay at the table,” I said. “He’s part of the family, too, Mom.”
She handed me a plate of eggs and potatoes, and while I was trying to figure out how to use the fork, Gregory got his nose into the plate and ate half of it. I pushed him aside. “My food,” I growled.
Dad drove us to school. I had Gregory on my lap. I wasn’t going to school without him. When Dad wanted to know why Einstein was in the car, I said this was “Bring Your Pet to School” day. Gregory sat and stared out the window, the way I used to. I always loved to ride in cars. He seemed to have the feeling of being a dog, but things weren’t going as well for me. I had to resist the urge to stick my head out the window or lean over and lick Dad’s face. I had to keep reminding myself that I was a boy now.
“Tonight’s the night,” Dad said. “You ready for the game?”
The game! “Uh, sure,” I said. Everybody was going to think that it was Gregory on the team. Gregory on the floor playing. Only it was going to be me, Einstein, the dog. And what did I know about playing basketball? Was that something a serious dog was expected to do? Gregory, who had been so worried about playing, didn’t look worried now. He was the dog and I was the boy. The game was my problem. I’d swear he was smiling.
10 ■ I put Gregory into the knapsack. It was a squeeze, and he kept squirming and I told him to keep still. “I know it’s tight in there, but I’m not going in that school alone. And don’t poke your head out, either, or we’ll both end up in the principal’s office.”
There were a couple of holes in the side of the knapsack where he could look out and nudge me one way or the other through the corridors.
I met Tina in the hall and stopped. “Hi, Tina.”
“Ready for the big game tonight?” she said. She clapped her hands and did a couple of cheerleading moves, ending with a leap in the air. I’d never realized how cute and lively she was. Maybe it was being up this high that made me really appreciate her. Her hair smelled fantastic. I kept wanting to sniff it.
Gregory was wriggling in the knapsack. “Look,” I said to Tina, and gave her a peek.
“Oh, Einstein, you’re in school! You cute, clever little dog. You like it here?”
Ron Rat, in all his smelly cologne, came strolling over, smiling at Tina. I just got the knapsack closed in time. “Tina, you going to sit with me at the game tonight?” Ron said.
“I’m cheerleading,” she said coolly. Then the first bell rang and she went off.
Ron turned to me. “How’s our star basketball player?” He showed his teeth in what was supposed to be a smile. “All set to lose the game?”
“You’re the one who knows how to do that, ratface.”
His eyes opened and his ears turned red. He thought he was talking to Gregory who was always so polite. He went for me, but I was ready. I stepped aside and ducked into my classroom.
School was not easy. Now I appreciated what Gregory had to go through every day. Sit. Sit. Sit. Then sit some more. Listen to Mrs. Tannenbaum talk, talk, and talk. And then listen some more.
The knapsack was on the floor between my legs. Gregory kept squirming and turning and popping his head up, like he wanted to tell Mrs. Tannenbaum and everybody who he really was. But he couldn’t tell anyone anything.
At least I could talk. I could see that it was easier for me, who never talked before, to be a boy, than for him, who talked all the time, to be a dog.
The girl next to me saw Gregory and laughed. “Look at the dog—,” she began.
I put my hand over her mouth.
She shoved me away. “Mrs. Tannenbaum! Gregory put his smelly hand on me.”
“We don’t use our hands that way, Gregory,” Mrs. Tannenbaum said. “Stand up and apologize.”
“Sorry,” I said, getting to my feet and stretching my arms. I still wasn’t used to this body.
“Sorry? Is that all?” Mrs. Tannenbaum said. “I think you can say a few more words.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Mrs. Tannenbaum sighed. “I know you’ve got an important game on your mind, but I want you to remember, Gregory, school is important, too. All right, sit down.”
I forgot how big I was and how much I weighed and how hard I could sit. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor and the seat was broken.
“Gregory!” Mrs. Tannenbaum said. “What a way to behave. I’m sorry that you’re like this today.” And then she sent me to the office.
In the principal’s office I had to sit and wait for the second principal in charge of discipline. I had the knapsack next to me. Gregory peered at me reproachfully from under the flap. “Okay, I’m sorry about the seat,” I whispered.
Every time the bell rang, kids looked in. “What happened, Oshun?” After a while, it seemed like everyone in school knew that Oshun was sitting in the office. Only now they were saying Oshun had gone berserk and punched Mrs. Tannenbaum, and was in the office, handcuffed to a radiator.
Gregory reached out and pawed me. “What?” I snapped. He kept pawing me. “What are you saying? You don’t know the problems I’m having being you. You got it good.”
He ducked down again then. I felt sorry. He was doing his best too. I sat with my hand in the knapsack, stroking his head. He was a good boy at heart. I mean, dog.
When I finally got in to see the second principal, she hardly said a word about the broken seat. All
she wanted to know was if I was ready for the game tonight. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Are we going to win?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She put her hand to her ear. “Are we going to win?”
“Yes, ma’am!” I barked.
“Now you’re talking.”
11 ■ At lunch, the woman behind the counter told me to stop sniffing the sandwiches. “Take what you want, and move on.” I bought milk and sandwiches for Gregory and me. At the checkout I had a little trouble with the money so I threw it all down and got hollered at again.
Outside there were kids by the picnic tables and over by the pond. I saw Tina with some girls and near them, lurking, were Ron Rat and Ernie. I circled around the other side of the pond, by the edge of the woods, and let Gregory out of the knapsack. Poor Gregory! He was desperate to go. He made a dash for the bushes.
I got worried when he didn’t come right back, and I started yelling, “Gregory! Here, boy!”
“Who are you calling Gregory, Gregory?” Tina said, coming over to me. She was sipping on her water bottle.
“Little Gregory,” I said lamely.
“Who?”
“Him,” I said as Gregory came out of the bushes.
“You call your dog by your name? That’s unique!” She sipped from her water bottle. “Little Gregory and big Gregory. Who else would have thought of that?”
“Only sometimes,” I said. “Here, Einstein!”
I unwrapped the sandwiches. “Einstein, which one do you want?”
“Can you tell which one he wants?” Tina said.
“Watch,” I said. “Tuna? Cheese? Peanut butter?” I held each one up separately.
Gregory barked for the peanut butter and I gave him the sandwich.
Tina couldn’t get over it. “He is the most brilliant dog.”
“He’s a mutt,” Ron said, coming out from behind a tree.
“Who, Einstein?” Tina said. “He’s no mutt.”
“He’s not the only mutt around.” Ron gave me a big sneering smile.
The hair on the back of my head bristled. I sensed someone behind me, and I looked around and caught Ernie sneaking up on Gregory.
“No you don’t!” I snatched up Gregory just in time.
“Come on, Tina,” Ron said, “let’s go for a walk in the woods. I want to show you the spring flowers.”
“Yeah, flowers,” Ernie leered. “Go for it, Tina.”
“Shut up,” Ron said, and kicked him in the butt.
Tina stroked Gregory’s neck. “Imagine calling you a mutt. You’re a brilliant scientist, aren’t you, Einstein?” She kissed him on top of his head. Gregory looked soulfully at her. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” she said, and gave him another kiss.
“She’s kissing a dog,” Ernie yelled. “Look at her, Ron.”
Ron was a rat, but Ernie was a complete idiot.
12 ■ There was team practice that afternoon. Gregory was on the sidelines and did his best to help me. I bounced the ball too hard at first and sent it flying up to the beams. Gregory barked at me sharply and ran out on the court and got yelled at. But then I got the hang of it, running with the ball and dribbling it. Maybe the moves were in my body—I mean, Gregory’s body—because it wasn’t that hard. But then dogs are naturally athletic.
Coach blew his whistle, and we started passing the ball. When I got it, I didn’t want to give it up. I guess you could say my dog instincts took over. I took it to the basket. “Pass the ball, Oshun,” Coach yelled.
My other weakness was my eyesight. Dogs can smell ten thousand different things, but they’re not known for their great eyesight. I could see the hoop, but it was a little fuzzy, and at first my shots were either too short or too long.
“Stay with it,” Coach said. “Don’t lose your confidence.”
The first time I sent the ball through the hoop, I got so excited I leaped up and barked, “Go! Go! Go!”
“Way to go! Keep it up, Oshun!” Coach yelled. He took me aside later and said, “You’re doing great. I’m going to be looking to you for outside shooting tonight.”
On the way home, Gregory ran ahead, then looked back and barked. He wanted me to hurry up. I was too slow for him. He was acting more like me, and I was acting more like him. At the house he got the ball from the garage and nosed it out into the driveway, where we had a basketball hoop set up. “I’m tired,” I said, sounding just like him. “Coach wants me to rest up.”
Gregory made me stay out there and shoot baskets. A set of ten from the foul line. “Okay?” I said. Gregory nosed the ball to another position, and I had to shoot ten more.
He was in charge, herding me around, barking at me.
When we finally went in, I collapsed on the rug in front of the TV and fell asleep. I didn’t wake up till Mom and Dad came home. The TV was on and Gregory was lying against me with the remote under his paw.
“Look how relaxed that boy is,” Dad said. “That’s the mark of a big talent!”
“What’s Einstein doing with the remote control?” Mom said.
I tweaked his ears. Gregory was surfing channels, the way he always did.
13 ■ The gym was packed that night. The yellow and black Stephens Academy buses were lined up outside. They’d come out in force. Everyone from our school was there, too. It was standing room only. When our team came out on the court, a big cheer went up from our side of the gym. Tina was leading the cheers. Dad and Mom were sitting in the front row. Gregory was with them. Ron and Ernie were there, too, behind the team bench.
In the opening huddle, Coach said the Stephens team was taller and heavier, but we were more agile and faster. He wanted us to move the ball. “Don’t let them trap you. Pass, pass, pass. Don’t force the shots. If you see an opening, take a shot.”
When the game started, I was on the bench. Dreyfus made a couple of quick outside baskets for us, and we went ahead. Those first scores sent a roar through the gym. Then Stephens evened things, and their side roared. When they went ahead, there wasn’t a sound from our side. For a while they seemed to get every rebound and block every shot we attempted. But we came back and evened the score.
It went back and forth that way. Dreyfus began looking sick again, and Coach sent me in to give him a breather. All my outside shots missed. Gregory kept barking at me. Stephens tried to steal the ball out of my hands, but I hung on. I wouldn’t let go. I ran with it and was called for walking.
“It’s not a football, Oshun,” Coach yelled. “Dribble the ball, bounce it, pass it!”
At the half we were down fourteen points. Dad came over. “I’m taking Einstein outside. You’re doing great, son. You looked fabulous on the court.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I had to wonder about his eyesight. Maybe he’d been a dog once, too.
In the locker room, Coach gave us another pep talk. We had to take more shots. Pass the ball more. “You guys are standing around too much.”
“Coach, I’m going to puke,” Dreyfus said, and staggered to the bathroom.
“Well, Oshun.” Coach looked at me, and he sighed. “Think you can get that practice magic back?” he said.
I didn’t know what to say. There were no words.
When we went out for the second half, Gregory had crawled under the bench. I saw the whites of his eyes. Do it for me, his eyes said. You’ve got to do it.
Coach put me into the game.
“There goes the game, folks,” Ron sneered. “Greg-o-ree is playing.”
I did what Coach said. I passed the ball. Whenever I was open, I took the outside shot. The Stephens players kept jumping in my face, and I missed. I got jarred. I was tripped and fell a couple of times, but no fouls were called. Under the bench Gregory was curled up, shaking.
Stephens was up fifteen points. Coach pulled me out and put Dreyfus back in, but he couldn’t do anything either. Stephens went up twenty points. Then twenty-five. Not a sound from our side of the gym. Then Dreyfus took an elbow in the midsection, and he
went down and stayed down.
Coach sent me in again. There was nobody else. He didn’t even tell me to do anything. The light had faded from his eyes. The game was lost. The Stephens team were high-fiving and grinning. I kept trying, but I couldn’t make a basket. Each time I grabbed for the ball, it was somewhere else. The Stephens players were toying with me. I kept lunging for the ball and they kept throwing it over my head.
Somewhere in there, I stopped trying to play like a boy and started playing like a dog. I wanted the ball. I went for it. I went low. I went high. I scrambled. I got the ball. The first time I got it, I went for the basket, head down, dribbling, dodging, cutting one way and then the other. At the basket, I leaped up and dropped it in.
I did it again. I was low, so I went under one guy’s arm and around two others, then leaped high. Again the ball went in. Their big guys blocked the basket. I kept leaping one way and then the other, the way a dog can leap, the way I leaped for the Frisbee when Gregory and I played. And the ball kept going in.
At first, we were so far behind nobody thought it mattered. Stephens had the ball. They were passing. I saw the ball in the air and snatched it like a Frisbee in flight. Before any of their players could catch me, I was down court and had another basket. Afterward, Dad told me, “That steal was the turning point of the game. When you made that basket the whole gym started screaming and it never stopped.”
Gregory Oshun was the hero of the game. I mean I was, but it was “Gregory” they were screaming. We won by only a handful of points, but it was enough. “Gregory! Gregory!” My name, his name, our name was being called from all sides. Someone was taking pictures. I was hoisted up and carried around the gym. I saw Tina. I saw Dad and Mom. Gregory was smiling at me from the bench. Everyone was smiling at me.
14 ■ When I came out of the locker room, the celebration was still going on in the parking lot. Mom and Dad were waiting by our car. “You’re the star,” Dad said. I got hugged and kissed again.
Tina was with her parents, but she ran over and hugged me. “I’m a friend of Gregory’s,” Tina said to Mom. “He’s my best friend!”
“Well, then, come have ice cream with us to celebrate,” Mom said.
